Superheroes
by notjustforchristmas
Summary: Isaac returns to Scott's house after a rainy walk to clear his head. Slight Isaac/Stiles feels with spoilers for up to S3E11.


Heavy raindrops bounced a staccato rhythm across the wet pavement as Isaac's last loping strides took him across the neat front garden and left him outside Scott's house. He had gone for a walk after school to clear his head and had ended up getting caught in an onslaught of rain, the kind of which he hadn't seen in a long time. With a quick look behind him at the rain bouncing like hundreds of small, clear bouncy balls Isaac turned his key languidly in the lock and stepped inside, dropping his backpack just inside the door as he entered. 

Scott was out working with Dr. Deaton at his office, or possibly having some sort of Alpha discussion which was deemed not for his preternatural hearing and Scott's mother was working late at the hospital so he knew he had the house to himself. Doubting himself, and unsure at how much time he had been walking, lost in thought, he held his breath and listened to the gentle exhale of he house as the wood expanded due to the unseasonal rainfall. 

"Nothing," he thought as he relaxed, moisture running down his slender fingers and dripping softly on the well worn rug in the hall, mirroring the steady beat of the torrents outside. "Don't know who I was expecting to be home anyway." he said aloud to himself, blinking rain water from his eyes. 

The chill in the air of the empty house was hardly enough to notice but the blond boy started shivering as he struggled with the buttons up the front of his oversized cardigan. The heavy wool, saturated with water, pooled on the kitchen floor with a squelch as he stepped through the door. His simple grey t-shirt was next, taking a substantial wriggle and three hops across the room to the drier door for him to free himself from the damp fabric. 

Shivering worse now he fumbled in the drier with one hand, tossing aside jeans and hoodies as he searched for his prize. He grinned as he found it and draped the towel around himself like a cape, gently and absent-mindedly towelling off his soaked hair. 

"Food," he said to himself simply, tugging open the refrigerator door and pulling the Tupperware of last night's roast chicken towards himself. After a short battle between the tightly sealed lid and his still shaking digits Isaac took a handful of chicken meat and stuffed it unceremoniously into his mouth. His enthusiastic chewing was cut short however as he heard a thump and what sounded like a pile of books sliding to the ground. Startled he looked towards the ceiling and waited. 

The distinct sound of footsteps confirmed what he had already feared. There was someone else in the house. 

Carefully Isaac slid his body around the wall and up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as he could. That was something he was grateful for, his werewolf super senses gave him a lightness on his feet he had never known before and having sneaked up Scott's stairs more than once gave him knowledge to avoid the creaky steps, the penultimate being the worst. He made it to the door of Scott's room with only a few barely audible shuffles and a slight bump as he'd knocked into the table in the hall. Stealth was not his strong suit. Listening to the door he heard short, raggedy breaths coming from inside, coupled with a slow, steady heartbeat. 

It was then he realised he was completely without a plan. He had made it up the stairs and to Scott's room without pausing to think about what he was going to do. His hand, which had been reaching to the door handle stopped, hanging limp in the air as he decided what to do. Should he barge in and confront whoever was now, from the sounds of it, rearranging to pile of books they had toppled to the floor? A would-be attacker wouldn't waste time putting things back the way they'd found them, would they? Unless they wanted the scene to look as undisturbed as possible. It was as these thoughts were tumbling through Isaac's head that he heard Stiles' unmistakeable voice mumbling to himself. 

"Of all the time in the world to start reading he picks now. Alpha packs attacking and Scott picks now to read 'The Great Gatsby'. Perfect." 

Isaac paused again, unsure how to proceed. Why was Stiles sneaking into Scott's room? Stiles knew Scott had left to be with the Alpha Pack, desperately seeking a way to find Melissa and the Sheriff. Feeling awkward and a little unsure at how to proceed Isaac did the only thing he could think of. He knocked. 

"Shit." Stiles mumbled from inside the room. Isaac could see him now, slightly bent over Scott's bedside table rearranging his things and stopping, wondering who was outside the door, just as Isaac had wondered who was inside. 

"Stiles, it's me, Isaac." the taller boy told the panel of wood between them. He would be lying if he said that, in the silence that followed, he hadn't heard Stiles' heartbeat pick up slightly at the mention of his name. Stiles remained silent for a while, thinking about what to say. He decided on nothing, as if he could play denial and that would make Isaac any less curious as to why he was loitering in his best friend's room when nobody else was home. Were they even best friends any more? Scott had left him, choosing the Alpha Pack over him, over their friendship. 

"Stiles?" Isaac asked again. "I know it's you... I'm coming in." He reached for the door handle, the purpose returning to his hand. 

"N-no." Stiles stammered. In the circumstance it was all he could think to say. His mind grasped for anything to follow it up with. "Don't come in." 

Smooth. 

Stiles walked over to the door. Unsure as to why he did it, possibly just to give him something to do. He was starting to blush at being caught in Scott's room, and at his insistence that Isaac shouldn't come in. If Isaac saw him in the room, it would have made the situation real, and that was one thing he wasn't sure he could deal with right now. 

He leant his head against the door. 

"I'm just here to pick up some stuff I left. I need it. For School. You know?" he muttered to the basketball poster carelessly tacked to the back of Scott's door. 

Now it was Isaac's turn to be speechless, his hand loitered on the door handle. The cold metal was warming in his palm. 

"So that's why you climbed in the window, instead of coming in through the front door like a normal person?" He finally asked after an awkward pause. It was all he could think to say. "And why can't I come in? What's going on Stiles? Are you O.K.?" 

On the other side of the door Stiles closed his eyes and grimaced. How could he explain to Isaac that, in truth, he wasn't O.K. His dad had been kidnapped by an evil druid, Scott's dad was wandering around town looking for him and Stiles wasn't sure if he was ever going to see him again. On top of that, his best friend had picked a group of psychopathic killers over him. The reason Stiles had come to Scott's house and climbed in through his window was that he just couldn't think of anywhere else to go. He didn't have anyone else. 

"I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. In the past, when my Mom died and things were tough at home I used to always come over here, climb in the window and hang out with Scott. But now he's not here, nobody's here. They're all out trying to save the world and meanwhile my Dad's rotting in a hole somewhere, waiting to die. That's if he's not dead already. And the last time we spoke we were arguing." The words came out in a tumble of emotion and panic. Stiles wasn't sure if he was going to have another panic attack but the familiar unsettled feeling was tight in his chest. His breath came to him in short, ragged bursts. "I can't lose him Isaac. I can't lose him as well." 

"You wont lose him. We'll find a way Stiles. I promise." Isaac wasn't sure how to continue. He ran his fingers tenderly down the wooden finish of the door, wishing there was a way he could reach inside and touch Stiles. His own experience of his parent's death had been rather different but he still didn't wish anyone else would have to go through it too, especially not Stiles. He seemed so vulnerable, he might be full of bravado, but it was always like it was hiding an uncertainty underneath. There was a certain sadness to Stiles that Isaac had only noticed in quick, stolen glances when Stiles didn't realise anyone was looking. 

It was then Stiles shocked him and did the bravest thing Isaac could think he could have done. He opened the door. 

"Dude, were you playing superheroes?"


End file.
